Home is Where the Badass is
by Stakeaclaim
Summary: Spike tries out Angel's bath products


Summary: Spike uses Angel's bath products

Warning: Slightly cracked and possibly schmoopy with a dash of m/m

Disclaimer: Not mine, Joss Whedon's, Mutant Enemy's etc. No money offered or taken. Also, Badedas? Spike's opinions are his own and I'm in no way responsible for them (hides from the lawyers)

A/N: Ok not my normal fare, for one thing it's short! For another, not a single bit of angst in sight, no siree, no angst here.

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**Home is Where the Badass is**

Another good night out fighting evil.

Tired, but feeling almost jaunty with success, Angel had happy tunes bouncing through his head as he finally crashed through the front door.

Ah, home! Except….

He sniffed the air suspiciously.

"Spike?"

"Hey. That you, Poof?"

The answering voice emerged from the region of the bathroom.

"Yeah. Uh. What's the smell?"

"Smell? Could be your Badass bath stuff. It's pretty cool."

"Huh?"

Angel frowned, unsure what the boy was talking about. Badass?

"Uh… oh, Badedas?"

"S'what I said. Badass. It's disgusting."

Angel moved around the room, disgorging weapons from the nether regions of his long leather jacket.

"Thought you said you liked it?"

The microwave whirred to life and the scent of warmed blood mingled with the delicate fragrance of sensual and revitalising bath foam. The overall effect was quite relaxing. Angel breathed deep the scent of home.

"I do. It squeezed out of the bottle like a thin stream of mucus…"

A ping punctuated the description.

The blood was removed and guzzled straight from the plastic bag. Away from humans, Angel didn't see the point of using a glass or mug, maintaining the civilised veneer that Cordelia used to feel was so important. As Spike liked to point out, they were demon blood drinkers, how the bloody hell do you 'civilise' away that? Angel wiped the blood moustache from around his mouth and trashed the plastic container.

"Charming." The boy would never make it in advertising despite his flare for words.

"Yeah, I thought that bit was good too. But it got better cus it didn't dissolve immediately, but swayed around in the water, you know, like those slimy tentacles that that wotchamacallit demon has, or, you remember the time Dru kept some worms as pets and wouldn't throw them out even when they popped their clogs, turned green and putrefied, yeah? It looked just like those worms. Why didn't you tell me you kept interesting stuff in with all this foofy fruit jojoba crap?"

Angel looked faintly horrified. Putrefied worms? He'd never be able to enjoy a relaxing Badedas soak again!

Still that irritating voice continued.

"Anyway, it gradually dissolved and guess what? The water turned neon green! Bleedin' A1."

"Neon…. Uh. How much did you use, Spike?"

"All of it of, of course. You know me - ain't one to do things by half."

The beginnings of a tension headache began to twang sour notes through the happy tunes in his head, and Angel rubbed at his brow, attempting to soothe it away.

"You realise it's not available in the States, don't you? I had to import the frigging stuff from frigging Europe?"

"Yeah? Good call, mate. Order some more will ya? Cus, like I said, all gone, except for the bubbles. Everything is covered in poofy bubbles…."

"Spike? When you say 'everything'…?"

Now Angel was nervous.

Oh jeez, were those soap bubbles creeping under the edge of the bathroom door? He could feel that tic starting up in his left eye and bongo drums taking up the rhythm, drowning out any remainder of the happy tunes.

Damn it! He was not going to run from this. He was a champion, and had the sword and swirly coat to prove it.

Angel took hold of the door handle, determination running through him like 'Brighton' through a stick of fluorescent-pink candy. He finally mustered up the courage to fling open the door.

"Shit, Spike! Where are you?"

"Here! Could do with some help, actually, can't see a bleedin' thing."

The voice came somewhere within the bubbles that mountained and cascaded over the floor, swamping the room, obliterating all bathroomy features - tub, sink, mirrored cabinet and annoying little vampire.

"Where? Spike, have you got the Jacuzzi on? Turn off the Jacuzzi, ok? Stay where you are, I'm coming in to find you."

Angel was in full hero mode and ready to dive into the thick of it, intent on retrieving his beleaguered childe at any cost.

A fleeting thought occurred to him and passed over his face like a shadow. He came to a grinding halt, considered for a second and then carefully toed off his Italian handmade shoes and stripped out of his Armani. Retrieving Spike at 'any cost' obviously excluded the ruination of his very expensive clothes. He neatly folded them away and turned back to his task.

"Jeez, it's like looking across the Alps. I swear that I can make out the peak of the Materhorn."

"Nah, that'll be my…"

"Yeah. You wish."

And Angel did as he always did, diving into danger with complete disregard for his own safety and without hope of reward. Well, ok, in this instance maybe the promise of reward was more prominent than usual as he tunnelled blindly towards his childe. His knees finally banged against porcelain and a grunt of pain escaped his lips. The soundmade him a target for bath-warmed limbs that tentacled around him. They tugged at him and he let out a shout as he fell forward and was pulled beneath the bubbles into steaming neon-green water, and there waiting for him were bright eyes and a laughing mouth.

"Welcome home, Peaches."

And he was back in the arms of his very own Badass.


End file.
